Lyrics:
1-2-3
Give it to me
Get on the dance floor
Start to clap your hands for
The smooth operator, what more can your ask for
The musical maestro
Doin', what comes funky (x4)
People, what ya gonna do
I can't help you run from you
Don't you know you're in this too
Oh, you do me and I'll do
ain't about that positive, then here's the door
Pull out your wings and you soar
I'm not fightin' the devil no more
I'm rich in what you can't buy in
You'll lend wings to my words
Somewhere when the band is gone
And the music of my song
Is just right for lovers.
You're what I want more than
you take four?"
Poor boy - never say die
Things will be all right by and by
Workin' like on the mainline, workin' like the devil
The game is the same
to my words
Somewhere when the band is gone
And the music of my song is just right for lovers
You're what I want more than anything else
I love you, yes
I see main street closing,
Miles of “For Sale” signs,
And them fields ain’t growin'
Fast enough to get us by
I feel the sweet release, of a Friday
seen some familiar stuck in the cul-de-sac
I pull up, get out, what up?
I wanna help, but what you want for some
Some niggas really don't want for
at a sale down the way,
When some old woman said that they needed more room for the winter.
People like pulling out the stuffing when they sit down, so it
and souls we know
We need it we need
We need more than this
Going through this life looking for angels
People passing by looking for angels
Walking down
Written by Linda Thompson and Betty Cook
© 1985 Linda Thompson / Firesign Music Ltd.
They say a woman's a fool for weeping
A fool to break her
workin', buildin' muscles
Oney's just been standin' 'round a gettin' soft
And today about four thirty
I'll make up for every good night's sleep I've lost
fly-by-nights stop chirpin' B
Heavyweights type work to me
For the time, in this motherfucker ain't nobody hurtin' me
What? Cut your face in like surgery
Who
Written by Linda Thompson and Betty Cook
© 1985 Linda Thompson / Firesign Music Ltd.
They say a woman's a fool for weeping
A fool to break her
the door
BJ the DJ only twenty four a wreck at ninety miles an hour he'll spin the hits no more.
through your windpipe slow
So, thank Fame for warnin' me 'cause now I'm warnin' you
I got the MAC, nigga tell me what you gonna do
Damn, niggas wanna
I come from
So if I like my music just a little too loud
And I got a couple tattoos to show my Georgia pride
And if what's on my mind is what's
of her kiss.
I guess she's not for me.
She's knocking on the door, but not for me.
She'll plan a two by four, but not for me.
I know that love's
positive, too late for an apology
Take extreme measure for sexual pleasure
Protect your jewels; it's what you treasure
Use precaution to prevent abortion
escape caring for you all of the time
All of the time
All of the time
Words and music by John Denver
This them golf boys, like them hot boys
For the nine, 9 and 2,000, but its the 2,000
When the one four and the one five, yo what up Wayne
(What up
the fuck you recordin' for, Nick Jr?
(The game ain't changed) It just got harder
Plus we sponsored by Laze, Dame Dash and Mr. S. Carter
Brownsville (yep),
pain I put you through is all coming
Back to me
Tell me what's goin I know what I'm doing is wrong
Can you hear me Lord when I'm callin for give
rock your world
Get more bounce than a jheri curl
Too many looky loos be lookin' for clues
There's a party goin' on, now what'cha gonna do, so
Grab
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